How We Spend Some Days
by Luminille
Summary: "Love's not always rainbows and butterflies; it's compromise that moves us along." Five times Hope and Vanille try to resolve their differences. Part 1: In the Face of Chaos.


**Notes (edited):** I want to explore a different side to Hope and Vanille's relationship, one which I find to be underrated; so don't expect much in the way of fluff or flowery language. There will be multiple verses to come and thus, spoilers for the entire trilogy. Anyway, enjoy!

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**Chapter 1: In the Face of Chaos**

Hesitantly, Vanille pulled the door shut with a soft click. Her hands tightened around the handle before she let go, turning to face the man in the darkness.

He sat on his side of the bed, eyeing the curtained window. Despite the lack of light sources, Vanille tracked the way his silvery hair fell against his jaw and how his clothes hung too loosely for her liking; both looked as unkempt as the sheets strewn about him.

As a boy, he had–for a few fleeting moments–sent her heart aflutter with unexpected charm and quiet confidence. But now…his shadowed profile, from the tense frame to the averted gaze, made her stomach twist and tie itself into a knot. Everything that had transpired over the past few days felt too much; the muscles in her calves seized and she wanted to split, to _run_–semantics be damned.

Vanille fought past the lump in her throat and whispered, "Hi, Hope."

"Welcome back," Hope replied flatly, unmoving from his spot.

Yes, she was back. Not _home_, but back.

She took several small steps forward, wondering what to do now. Wondered what to say to the man who she'd entrusted all her hopes and dreams for the future; to the boy who had visited the pillar, visited _her_, whenever possible yet presently refused to meet her eye.

"…Why did you leave?"

His voice, deceptively calm and quiet, jolted Vanille from her reverie. The jump had her bangles jingling, and the redhead focused on righting them as she tried to find the words, knowing the need for honesty and consideration in this situation.

"I…I needed to see for myself," she began. "To see if the reports were true; if things were still bad down there or if the fal'Cie really had returned…"

Her pitch rose as she pressed on, treading towards the bed. "And they have! Not many, just a few, but enough to work the land and start making it liveable again."

Hope appeared to evaluate her words. "Is that all?"

"Yep," she said, coming to a stop by his foot. But Vanille recognised a lie when she heard one (especially from her own mouth), and saw from the clenching of his bare hands that her account would not pass the grade.

And she was right.

Hope sprang to his feet, whirling around with wild arm motions. One fist settled by his hip as he fixed his green eyes, narrowed and furious, on hers. Craning her neck, she noticed a smattering of stubble lining his strained jaw.

_Maker, is he tall,_ thought Vanille, a touch dazedly.

It wasn't like she had forgotten during her brief absence, nope. However, all those moments where he leaned towards her, let her rest against his shoulder, and her favourite, sat her in his lap made Vanille take for granted exactly how much he'd grown. Still, she refused to be scared of _Hope_ and pursing her lips, she braced herself against the inevitable outburst.

"One moment you're here," he said, pointedly stabbing the air. "Then all of a sudden, you take off without a word and with _Snow_–of all people! _Why_–"

Hope drew a few shuddering breaths, trying to regulate his wildly fluctuating voice and heartrate. Forcing down the more hideous emotions, he continued, "Vanille, why didn't you just _tell me_…?"

The plaintive tone plucked at her heartstrings. "I-I wanted to tell you, Hope, believe me I did. But _you_"–she snatched his free hand and shook it–"you wouldn't listen to me! Not when I tried to get you to move, to eat, or to sleep..."

Hot tears welled up at the recent memories, though she made no move to wipe them. "And when you switched off your com and locked your lab, I thought you didn't want to see me!"

Hope felt his arm drop to the side. Yes, it was all true–even the last part as horrible as that sounded–but the way Vanille portrayed it…He had to get her to understand.

Freeing his captive hand, he sighed and rubbed his eyes. "We've discussed this before," he said wearily.

Catching her scrunched look–one he'd long identified as Vanille's "hey, listen you" face, Hope sensed an alarm go off and hastily held up his fingers. "Wait. Hear me out, please."

She frowned but gave a tiny nod. "Okay."

Filled with relief, he fished through his pockets and withdrew a yellow handkerchief. Adorned with orange and pink hand-stitched flowers, it'd been a gift from the woman in front of him. Gently, Hope dabbed her cheeks, then guided Vanille to sit beside him on their bed. The handkerchief lay forgotten as he laced his fingers with hers.

Her hands were warm, feminine and unyielding, just like their owner; for a heartbeat, he treasured the familiar yet comforting touch.

"The Conseil has decreed it unsafe to leave Bhunivelze due to the flux of chaos levels, growth in unidentifiable monsters, and changing landscapes in the lower world.

"But there's more," said Hope, glancing at her expression. "It's _time_. The chaos is linked to time itself; when the gates opened and Chaos flooded through, time stopped for us all. The majority of humans no longer experience the effects of aging or birth, and unless struck by violence or disease, are essentially immune to death."

Vanille squeezed his hand. The speech was one she'd heard many times since he first started theorising with Noel, Snow and the Academy researchers. While she, Fang and Sazh mostly kept to themselves, occasionally sitting in on meetings or intervening in public affairs, Hope became a leader, directing both divisions of the Conseil. However, lately, he'd begun to play scientist more than politician and the toll of juggling these roles worried her, more than she could say.

"The ability to control the chaos is not a novel concept. Serah, and that man Caius–"

Hope grimaced in memory of the fierce warrior whom had stormed Academia, and later on the shores of Valhalla, plunged the Odinblade through his goddess-graced heart. The world was in its current state because of one man's selfish desires, and the guilt Hope carried–for his powerlessness, for his role in the whole ordeal–burned like an ever constant brand.

"Their powers of time travel, monster summoning, and in Serah's case, precognition are said to be manifestations of chaos." Recalling the ancient tablets, scriptures by Paddra's seeress, and Noel's personal accounts, he added, "Gifts from the goddess. Yet chaos resides in all our souls; humans have (as far as we know) always been born with chaos.

"It could be like magic. Once only wielded by those cursed as l'Cie, normal humans have been able to cast spells ever since Cocoon's fall."

A thoughtful look crossed Vanille's face. "You mean…you've been trying to control the chaos? And time?"

"Yes and no. With Noel's help, we've moved from studying its effects to emulating its powers," he said. "Unfortunately, his affinity, while higher than an average human's, is marginal compared to what Serah's…had been. But, I believe we're onto something."

Vanille waited for him to go on, and when he didn't, she nudged his foot. "_That's_ why you've been hiding away?" she asked, unimpressed.

Hope returned her kick, feeling the inklings of irritation set in as he elaborated. "We've been looking at external means of control, and could be on the verge of a breakthrough _any day now_," he stressed. "Sure, we've become something close to immortal but there's still not enough time. How can I sleep while knowing the chaos is consuming this world and people continue to suffer? I can't!"

His grip had grown painfully tight as he spoke, and Vanille sighed. Wrenching her hands from his grasp, she shoved him backwards onto the bed. "Stop being so hopeless, _Hope_."

Noting that he'd landed on a pillow (and not the headboard), she ignored his look of comical bemusement and said, "We need you. _I_ need you. But not like this! Look at you; you're tired and grumpy. Your brain may be running a mile a minute, but your body is gonna collapse!"

Vanille's eyes were blazing and defiant as she hovered above him, arms akimbo. Hope watched as she squeezed them shut and then, as if all the fight had left her, flopped face first onto the pillow next to his. Onto _her_ pillow. Clutching it, she mumbled, "I can help."

"Wh-What?" Hope spluttered, not sure if he'd heard her correctly. Pillows tended to obstruct the propagation of sound. Attenuation and all. In any case, he fervently hoped he hadn't.

"I can help. With your experiments." Vanille shifted, rolling onto her side, and inched closer. "You said you haven't being making much progress with Noel, right? Then let me help too." She brushed away some curls and touched her ears, staring into Hope's eyes as she did so.

"No. _No_." Dread pooled in his stomach for the second time that week. Finally doing what he'd wanted since he noticed her disappearance, Hope gathered Vanille in his arms and kissed the spot between her neck and shoulder. "Earlier, I'd thought I lost you again," he whispered hoarsely into her ear. _I don't want to lose you for real_, went unsaid. "Only Sazh knew where you went, and even he couldn't provide any coordinates."

Of course, Hope had–against his better judgement–tried contacting her communicator as well as the one aboard Snow's airship, but even love and desperation were no match against the disruptive forces of chaos. Short of abandoning his responsibilities and research, the only thing Hope could do was await her return. Which he did, with much reluctance and dismay.

"We were fine, you big worrywart," she said, patting his forearm. "Fang was with us. And you know she'd never let anything happen to me." _Although, she couldn't stop __**you**_, Vanille thought with a fond smile.

Her hand travelled up Hope's arm, then reached around his neck to stroke his hair. "You want to reverse the effects of the chaos, don't you? That's what the Conseil is all about. Well, so do I. Plus, I've been asleep for a lot longer than you."

"Only a hundred years more," he murmured, voice muffled by Vanille's hair.

"Make that six hundred years." She giggled.

"I'm older than you," Hope reminded, his fingers dancing down her back.

"Smarter, too," Vanille agreed. "But wiser? Well…"

Hope groaned, knowing a lost battle when he saw one. Still, he persisted. "I don't like seeing you in pain."

"And I hate not being able to see _you_." Lightly, Vanille pushed back his shoulders so they could speak face-to-face.

"I…I must have been given these powers for a reason," she said, referring to her heightened awareness of the chaos–something she possessed after awaking from her second time in crystal stasis. Sometimes, when the chaos grew dense, Vanille could even hear voices. Hope had witnessed one of these episodes, which hadn't helped his paranoia–or with the headache she experienced afterwards. "I can't think of a better reason than helping you. Helping to fix and rebuild our world."

Hope felt his shoulders fall. "You know if it were up to me," he said, "I'd let you rest after all you did to keep Cocoon safe."

"Well, good thing it's not up to just you." Vanille was smiling as she spoke, and the sight helped to ease some of Hope's worries.

"You're right." Hope yawned. "We can begin brainstorming the necessary modifications and calibrations tom–_later_."

"Mmhmm." Vanille scooted slightly, wrapping one of her arms around his waist. "It's been a long few days, hasn't it?"

There was no response; not that Vanille had been expecting one.

Soon, a sweet sound filled her ears–the sound of Hope's even breathing. Vanille hugged his waist a little more tightly and tried to follow his example. Her other concerns, less pressing than Hope's health and well-being, could wait until later.

_Goodnight_, she thought.

_I love you, too._

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**Notes:** This was inspired by Maroon 5's song, particularly the lines referenced in the summary (and the title). It turned out _a lot_ longer than I'd expected; there were meant to be five different drabbles :/ Not to mention I had to drop a few plot points, hence, the ending. Maybe I'll use them if I ever revisit this AU.

I hope things weren't too vague to understand. Knowledge about the post-LR novella, "Reminiscence", is necessary - even if I dislike it with a burning passion.

Please review if you enjoyed it and thanks for reading!


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